


Silence

by LettersToHeartbreak



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Game), Middle-earth: Shadow of War (Video Game)
Genre: Bleeding through the throat multiple times, Bonds, Celebrimbor doesn't know Talion as well as he thought, Is it onesided?, Knowing Celebrimbor...., M/M, New Ring of Power, Possessive Talion, Talion does not like Shelob, Talion isn't oblivious, it could be, it might not be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersToHeartbreak/pseuds/LettersToHeartbreak
Summary: In the wake of the New Ring of Power's forging, Celebrimbor is taken, and Talion is suddenly faced with the silence of his mind. He realizes that he does not like it.





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Shadow of War's introduction-  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-K0WrdpDPK4  
> I had no beta reader, so it would be very helpful for any feedback!

Talion wasn't quite sure when the shift occurred. Thinking about it, he wasn't sure Celebrimbor would have been sure either- if the wraith had even been aware of Talion's dilemma at all. Which he wasn't; Talion had made sure of that by locking away his most private thoughts behind an impenetrable wall in the deepest pockets of his mind.

 

It was the only place in which Talion was really himself, and not a strange, unnatural mixture of another soul. His body alone was enough of a violation, despite all of the control he still wielded over it. Having another presence who whispered things with clever silver tongue, whether those words be promises of impossible vengeance, a death mutually desired, or even the truly rare mundane complaint of something as simple as missing the feeling that one feels if a deep breath was taken- made Talion’s own mind a rarely quiet place.

 

But then, Celebrimbor was gone, and Talion was alone in his body.

 

The great boom that rattle Mount Doom to her roots at the final strike of mithril hammer upon new ring was a rippling, indescribably wild thing- sound chased by energetic power. Just for a moment, before that very power ripped Celebrimbor free from the bonds that Talion and he shared, Talion thought ‘ _Here you are_ ’ because in that ripple, he felt everything that made up his ghostly companion. The righteousness, the poisonous hatred, the desperate drive, the underlying metallic taste of darker potentials, the scars of the past, the regal pride- but not just that, Talion also felt what soulful things Celebrimbor probably thought he had long considered lost or taken. The softer edges even. The wistful, impossible wishes for times long past (a wife, a daughter- like the private thoughts of son and wife- different times, different families, lost in equal brutality), the careful possessive care for things Celebrimbor thought his and his alone, the fear that he would fail.

 

And it was that fear, metallic like thick blood in the back of his throat, coating his tongue and filling his nose with the scent of the stuff that lingered with Talion when they were thrown apart.

 

Talion, physical as he was, and not spiritual like his companion, did not remain standing. The wild power of their ring, newly birthed and utterly eager, sent Talion airborne, driving air from lung when he hit the unforgiving ground, skidding and rolling until he stopped prone.

 

With the loss of the bond, so was lost the thing that kept Talion’s throat closed. No sooner had the man slumped did the old wound open, allowing eager blood to find an early exit. Desperately, Talion clutched at the wound, coughing and heaving at the pain of it. Vaguely, he sensed a little thing landing near by, silver and glowing in a suddenly comforting blue, but that seemed insignificant. Talion was alone, and his wounds were bleeding him dry.

 

Balancing on forearms, Talion raised his head enough and just in time to witness in blurred vision the glowing visage of Celebrimbor approach, only for dark smoke (not smoke, something else, something dark and malicious) to steal the elven lord away.

 

Talion collapsed, weakened and gasping “Celebrimbor...” he wheezed, finding himself nearly too weak to even utter his companion’s name.

 

Like the single time before that he laid like this, the wraith world (wrong, wrong, this was wrong!) greeted the ranger, painless and colorless.

 

Familiar humming welcomed him, a voice that had begun to fade from memory providing a melody of old, more peaceful days.

 

Like his body was not just in the throngs of a violent death, Talion could stand, and with little thought, walked to the source of that song.

 

In his hand was a small of bouquet of flowers, white and beautiful (when did they get there? Or had Talion always been holding them?) like Her, and when he reached Her, he gifted them, though in his mind they lacked beauty enough to match the women in his arms.

 

The women gasped softly in pleasure “Talion,” she turned with a soft smile to her husband “this is beautiful.” Talion smiled, ignoring the voice in his head that whispered in unfamiliar voices, yet seemed so familiar that this was done before- that he knew the outcome. This was wrong, something was wrong.

 

What was wrong? Loreth was here, and she was smiling at Talion. Nothing was wrong.

 

“Where did you find it?” Loreth asked, her voice lilting with inquiring amusement. Talion could listen to that voice forever.

 

“I still have a few friends left in Gondor” Talion said, a touch teasing despite the underlying weight of the statement. Loreth only frowned, that soft smile Talion so loved sliding away like sand through fingers.

 

Something was different (what was different? Nothing was different) Something was causing Loreth distress, quiet as she was about it. Talion’s own smile slipped away, causing a pinched expression of worry to be left in its wake.

 

“What’s wrong?” Talion asked. Loreth looked at him in sadness, and the hands holding those delicate flowers slowly lowered, bowing like the flags on a battlefield.

 

“The past is the past,” The words awoke ice in Talion’s spine “nothing can be changed.” Loreth continued, sorrowful and resigned. It caused a feral, snapping creature of fear to rear in Talion’s stomach. The voices in his head gained pitch ( _WRONG WRONG WRONG_ ).

 

“We must leave this place” Talion breathed, fear mounting. His breath quickened. He grabbed Loreth’s arm in firm grip, careful not to do so too hard and harm her “We can go, now” Talion insisted.

 

Loreth pulled away, and Talion’s world fractured. Faintly he realized that he was begging, but no matter what he said, Loreth faded from his hands, and all that was left were those flowers.

 

Talion collapsed, and a silver thing glowed into his vision, strange and alive.

 

The colorless world faded away, but that silver thing remained, whispering in a familiar voice, calling to him.

 

Another whispered as well, and it was what broke the stupor that locked Talion’s mind. Echoing, whispering, it spoke ( _Wake up, Talion…_ )

 

Talion outstretched his hand, struggling and near senseless, reaching for that familiar, comforting energy that the silver ring radiated.

 

It twitched, though Talion could not see it with his failing vision. It slid a little, and then the ring leapt in its own power. Like coming home the ring settled onto Talion’s finger, the force of it doing so throwing Talion from his side to his back.

 

And then the power came, and Talion screamed from it.

 

Another explosion rocked Mount Doom, but this time instead of throwing Talion aside, he was at the epicenter, the cause. Filling him like refreshing water, the ring’s power flooded every part that made Talion himself, replacing in fraction the gaping hole in the ranger, sealing deadly wound and revitalizing the energy lost.

 

Talion stood, holding his hand and looking upon the ring that had saved his life. No doubt the power was great, but it was only a ghost of what Talion truly felt wanting.

 

He looked around “Wraith!” but there was nothing “Where are you?”

 

In his mind, the gaping silence called for action. The man turned, determination making feet swift and controlled, and on the wind a woman's voice chased him, equally guiding and taunting.

 

In the end, when Talion dropped the ring into the spider’s hand, willingly and with little thought, Talion realized the shift, even as he collapsed with that thrice damned wound in his throat bleeding as eagerly as it had the two times before.

 

Gasping, sent to his knees by the pain, and in the final moments of the true privacy of his mind, Talion reflected on the past few minutes. How he had been angered by Shelob’s callous and thoughtless torturings of Celebrimbor for a trinket- a trinket that Celebrimbor had poured himself into, even if the elf did not know that Talion knew that.

 

Talion knew that for a long while yet, Celebrimbor’s ire would be focused on him for this trade, but the ranger equally knew that he would be far happier to bare the brunt of that then the silence of his body.

 

Shelob, the clever spider that she was, obviously could see that, for as she admired how the ring fit upon her finger she mocked him for it “I’m impressed, Ranger” with none of the feeling the word meant “He must mean something to you.”

 

If he had the breath or blood for it, Talion would have perhaps scoffed at the irony, but he did not.

 

And then Celebrimbor came back, and Talion felt as if his spirit rejoiced in welcome, easily moving to allow the wraith welcome in the spaces that had become the elven lord’s in the time they had spent bonded. Despite the anger and betrayal Celebrimbor slung upon Talion through their restored bonds, Talion could not help but feel as if he had suddenly been repaired. He took the abuse easily, and perhaps a touch happily (Much to Celebrimbor’s confusion once he realized that Talion was not reacting as expected).

 

Talion gave no explanation, but carefully tucked away behind that little wall the glowing ball of his realizations that had come in the wake of the weeping holes Celebrimbor had left in his involuntary leave.

 

Even as Talion, now ringless yet with his wraith, fled to Minas Ithil he knew in that tiny bit of privacy that was his and his alone, that the claiming possessive creature that Celebrimbor had in his spirit, Talion had as well.

 

And maybe Celebrimbor will never turn that to the Ranger, and make him as priceless as the ring was now, but Talion knew that the possessive beast he himself harbored looked upon Celebrimbor. Never again would he go through that emptiness, that silence that had been wrought by the elf’s absence.

 

The past was the past, but Celebrimbor at least was here.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom needs more Wraith/Ranger love dammit, and with Shadow of War coming out tomorrow I will damn will provide some. Obviously this can be taken either way (platonic or not), but I am personally a shipper for these two.


End file.
